


Through The Fire And Powder

by Buckets_Of_Stars



Series: Ineffable Instincts [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Alpha Crowley (Good Omens), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Instincts, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Author Is Sleep Deprived, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Complete, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Discorporated Aziraphale (Good Omens), Discorporation (Good Omens), Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Feral Behavior, Feral Crowley (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Modern Era, Omega Aziraphale (Good Omens), One Shot, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Possessive Behavior, Possessive Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Sad with a Happy Ending, Scared Aziraphale (Good Omens), Scene Rewrite, Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Scent Marking, Scenting, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Whump, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/pseuds/Buckets_Of_Stars
Summary: Crowley's only goal was to keep them safe--to keep his Omega safe. When Hell finally figures out just who screwed up the antichrist delivery all those years ago, it's only a matter of time before they come for Crowley.And, by extension, come for Aziraphale.When he confronts his husband about his plans for their escape to Alpha Centauri, Aziraphale had refused, insisting that there was a way for God to fix the Earth and what was to become of it in only a few, short hours. Torn between his instincts as an Alpha and his duties as a husband, Crowley goes to confront the demons coming for him alone.Afterwards, he's horrified to find that his plans weren't the only thing that ended up in flames.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Instincts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515203
Comments: 23
Kudos: 275





	Through The Fire And Powder

**Author's Note:**

> I told you guys that I would finish this fanfic tonight and goddamn it, I meant it 😆 I hope you enjoy this rewrite of the canon series and please, PLEASE let me know what you think! I love y'all! ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> **It's highly recommend that you read/re-read the first fic ["Falling, Falling (For You)"] in this series before you start this one, as to help the metaphors and flashbacks make more sense**
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or any related materials.

* * *

_“These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume. . .”_

\--William Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet” (Act II, Scene VI)

* * *

By the time Crowley had actually managed to get into the Bentley and start down the crowded London streets toward his flat, his Instincts were already teetering on the wrong edge of feral. 

Aziraphale and him fought. 

Of course, they’d argued before--being mates for nearly 6,000 years had it’s disadvantages at times--but never like this. Their bloody lives were at stake, _Aziraphale’s life_ was at stake, and Crowley could feel the Alpha in him rage, the need to keep his mate safe and out of harms way causing him to lose grasp of himself, for just a second. 

“You promised me that we would be safe, Crowley.” Aziraphale had muttered, the whine Crowley knew the blonde was struggling to hold in pushing at his wonderful lips. “In Rome.”

_“I can keep us safe.”_

He had said under a clear blue Roman sky, the euphoria of having his Omega _finally_ in his arms again nearly causing the Alpha to see stars.

_“They can’t hurt us.”_

He remembers the words, the way that they had felt on his tongue and the bitter acid of uncertainty that they had caused. It was easy back then, when all they had to worry about was not leaving a trail, not being suspicious because Heaven can’t know. 

Funny thing, it wasn’t even Heaven they’re worried about anymore. At least, not _only_ Heaven.

“I can.” The words sound hollow to even Crowley and the ginger nearly snarls at the tears he can see gathering in his mate’s beautiful blue eyes. “Just--We need to go now, baby, _please_.”

Aziraphale had wavered for just a second, enough for his scent to rise, flooding the air around them in enough Distressed Omega pheromones that Crowley is nearly dizzy with the need to _protect_. He nearly sways from the force, the Alpha inside of him raging. 

“I cannot.” The words were whispers, a thin spider web of syllables. Crowley's reminded of the same words spoken along the Eden Wall all those years ago and his heart cracks in his chest. “I can fix this, Sir-- _Crowley_ , I-I can.”

And Crowley never, _ever_ wants to force Aziraphale to do anything. 

Even if that goes against Crowley’s very instincts as an Alpha and as Aziraphale’s husband.

 _I’ll be alright, dove, don’t you worry._ He had shouted once he had forced himself to step away from Aziraphale, standing on the edge of his car door, staring down at his Omega through his shades. 

His insides had burned with the lie. 

Aziraphale had, of course, refused to go to Alpha Centauri, insisting something about how The Almighty will fix it, how he just “needs to make a few, quick calls” and Crowley had nearly howled in a protective rage. His wonderful Omega's scent, no matter how much Aziraphale had tried to hide it, was thick in a bitter fear, in anxiety, in pain that called out to Crowley, begging him to fix it. 

So clever, his wonderful, darling Omega is, but oh so _stupid_ at the same time.

Crowley had needed to go then, needed to get out of there because Hell was coming for him. They knew about his screw up with the antichrist all those years ago and they were coming for him and damn it if he would be anywhere near his Omega when they do. 

So he had left. 

Crowley left even when his whole body shook from the wrongness, from the way that Aziraphale had stared after him, his beautiful blue eyes shrouded in pain and fear, his sweet scent creeping along the many yards separating them until it was all Crowley could sense. 

Crowley had longed--had ached, every single fiber of his mortal and immortal being-- to scoop him up, to ignore his Omega’s protests and take them both far, _far away_ , to lay his mate beneath him and cover his delicate body with Crowley’s own, to pin him to the ground so that Heaven above or Hell below cannot touch them.

Once the Bentley was going full speed did Crowley finally allow himself to growl.

It was an Alpha growl. Deep, possessive, angry, pulling at his chest, almost turning him inside out.

Setting up the trap, once he got back to his flat and got his Instincts under at least a little bit of control, was easier than expected. The Holy Water, decked out in the tartan cup Aziraphale had given him, was quickly but carefully poured into an obnoxiously bright red bucket. 

His mate’s scent, although stale from within the confines of the thermos, wafted in the air around Crowley and the demon had felt his chest rumble again. 

After melting Lingur into a puddle of bubbling lizard demon goop and dealing with the now enraged and vengeful Hastur, Crowley was nearly startled when his desk phone suddenly rang. 

“Hold on just a moment,” He quipped at a growling Hastur, the Omega demon’s mouth nearly frothering as he paces across the floor, just out of range of the green spray bottle Crowley has grasped in between his fingers. “Don’t move, or it might get a little bit, well, messssy.”

“You son of a bitch--” Hastur snarls but Crowley shakes the bottle and the frog demon goes silent with a low grumble, snapping his jaw shut.

Picking up the receiver, Crowley’s grip falters for a split second when his Omega’s voice, shrouded in panic and nearly breathless, spills through. “I know where the real antichrist is--”

“Not now,” Crowley barks, even through the Instincts threatening to rip his chest into two. “Got a friend here.”

“ _Alpha--_ ”

Crowley slams the receiver down, gritting his teeth. _Must keep him safe._

Taking a deep breath and schooling his features, the Serpent of Eden forces a sly grin to creep onto his face, turning back to a still seething Hastur just as the blonde snarls. Taking a step closer and feeling a shimmer of satisfaction pool in his chest when the Omega demon teeters backwards, Crowley shakes his head.

“You certainly did pass with flying colors, Hastur.” He sneers, flexing his pointer against the spray bottle’s trigger. “I wasn’t sure if you had it in you after all.”

Hastur frowns, dark eyes alight in confusion. “What?” 

“Well,” Crowley walks around his desk, letting go of the bottle to grab his cell phone from his pocket, heart clenching at the sight of Aziraphale’s bright smile on his wallpaper. He unlocks it with a quick swipe of his finger. “This was a test, you bumbling fool of a Duke, to test your loyaltiessss to Hell, to show if you had the right stuff to command one of our Lord’s armies.” 

It was a far stretch, something that Crowley had literally pulled out of his ass a good 5 minutes before the two idiots had knocked on his door but it seemed to be enough for Hastur because the Omega demon grins, just a little bit.

Hastur relaxes enough that Crowley feels safe to lower the spray bottle, dialing his own number with quick taps. He brings the electronic device up to his ear, watching out of the corner of his eye for any sudden moves from the Duke of Hell. 

“What are you--?” 

“Shh,” Holding up a finger, Crowley smirks. “The Dark Council will definitely be hearing about this.”

Hastur blinks, taking a hesitant step closer when Crowley nods. “You-You’re calling the Dark Council? Right now?”

“Oh, yes yes.” Suddenly stepping away, Crowley carelessly throws the spray bottle toward the opposite wall, ignoring the way Hastur shrieks in terrified surprise. Stepping onto his throne, the Alpha laughs, a hissing, joyless laugh. “So long sssucker!”

He forces himself into the phone, sliding in-between the atoms at the speed of a falling star. Around him, the colors and lights zip by, dragging him further and further into the electromagnetic fields. Hopefully, as per Crowley’s plan, Hastur would follow, allowing the ginger to trap him in the atomic cloud. 

Quickly emerging from the cell phone after a few more minutes of shooting through space, Crowley grins in delight at finding the Duke of Hell, indeed, trapped in his desk phone’s answering machine. Slapping the recorder in jest, Crowley barely has time to hiss before his stomach suddenly drops.

_Aziraphale._

Something’s wrong. Something is very, _very_ wrong.

Crowley’s out the door and in the Bentley before he’s even aware he’s moved. An adrenaline is pumping through his veins, his lips curled in snarl, eyes blazing as he zips across the streets, wearing in between other cars and humans. 

All of his focus now is on his mate, on his Omega who’s alone and terrified and _not safe_ and fuck, _fuck_ Crowley can feel himself loosing control.

He growls, pushing on the accelerator with more force, flooring it until the world outside is merely a blurr. He calls Aziraphale, pushes the buttons on his phone with enough force to shatter the screen if not for the fact that Crowley won’t allow it too. 

The line goes dead just as Crowley pulls up in-front of the bookshop.

The _burning_ bookshop. His Omega’s burning bookshop.

_Hellfire._

Crowley’s racing out of the Bentley and into the shop with a speed that he didn’t even know he possessed. His entire being is shaking, trembling in a growl so powerful that the very smoldering walls around him seems to vibrate from the force.

“ _Aziraphale!_ ” He screams above the roar of the flames, the beating of his heart even louder in his ears. His mouth is open, fangs on full display as he sucks in the smoke-filled air, trying desperately to grasp any hold on his Omega’s sweet scent. All that comes back is the smell of the burning paper and Crowley sobs around a gag. “Aziraphale, my darling, where are you?!”

He paces around the burning remains of the shop, not caring as the ashes begin to settle along his clothes, straining the black fabric in little spheres of gray-white. The flames lick at his shoes but Crowley pushes them away with enough force to send him stumbling backwards, his snarl of rage and fear causing his frame to tremble. 

He crouched now, hunched over like a wild animal, not caring as feral growls spill from between his still curled lips. 

_Aziraphale._ That’s the only thing he knows, the only word he’s capable of thinking, his mind almost lost to the flickering, orange firelight around him. _Aziraphale. Omega. My Omega. Mine, Mine AziraphaleAziraphaleAziraphale. . ._

His foot bumps against a book, this one solid and untouched by the flames and the Alpha grabs it without thinking, holding in close to his chest like he would his mate, smoothing his thumb against the raised words on the cover in slow, smooth circles, like he would Aziraphale’s soft, golden curls. 

_. . so soft, so sweet and beautiful, his entire mate was. ._

Voice cracking in his chest, Crowley closes his stinging, burning, blazing yellow eyes, throws his head back, and _howls_ in Alpha fury to the very Heavens above.

* * *

Crowley truly doesn’t know how he got to the pub.

All he remembers is the flames and the burn of his throat as he raged, his feral sounds catching in his chest, wet with the tears he had finally let fall. The book, when he had actually climbed back into his car, was thrown onto the passenger's seat, bouncing a few times against the impeccable leather before hitting the backrest with a dull thud. 

The drive was a blur. 

Getting out of his car and stumbling into the bar was a blur. He remembers, vaguely, snarling at the waiter as she had handed him a drink, lips curling as he tipped the scotch down without even blinking. 

The book-- _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter_ , it says in faded gold lettering across the cover-- is now on the table in-front of him, still smudged with soot from the shop and Crowley would throw it against the nearest wall himself if not for the fact that it’s _Aziraphale’s_ book. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Crowley snarls to no one in particular, swirling the alcohol around the bottom of the glass in his hand, feeling the cup want to break from the force of his grip but decides, in it’s better interest, to stay intact. “I didn’t-- _My Omega, my mate, mine_ \--Aziraphale, he’s gone, his shop’s all-all burnt up now, his beautiful scent’s gone, _mine, minemine_ . Gone, all fucking gone. It’s meaningless now, this-this whole _bloody fucking ssssaving the Earth thing_ , without him-- _Aziraphale,_ without my Omega--” 

Each word is borderline feral, laced with a growled, stormy undertone that Crowley has never felt before.

He’s just about to swing another shot down when a sudden crash of thunder booms in the distance, flashing a white light so bright that it’s nearly blinding, even with his sunglasses on.

The scent that hits him is nearly overpowering in the best way possible. 

It’s sweet, warm, like the first rays of sunshine, of apples and sugar and flowers, a scent that Crowley has known for over 6,000 years and would know for many, _many_ more. He’s sitting up before he even realizes it, slamming his drink down.

The glass does shatter this time, spilling shards spinning across the stained, oak table but the demon finds that he doesn’t care.

“Aziraphale?” He gasps out, glancing around him just as another bolt of lighting strikes the ground outside, spilling a rumble of thunder across London. “My dove, are you here?”

“I-I think so, darling.” Aziraphale’s voice is sweet, high and breathy with tears but still _his_ and everything Crowley needs and he can’t stop, doesn’t want to stop, the Alpha growl that shakes his own frame. “Oh God, _Alpha--_ ”

“I’m here.” Crowley soothes, reaching a hand out even though he can’t see his husband, can’t feel his mate’s warm cheek press against his palm, can’t see the beautiful blue eyes reflecting the lightning flashing outside. “I’m right here, sweetheart. Feel me, yeah? Smell my scent around you, my wonderful, perfect Omega?” 

“Can you hear me?” Aziraphale’s voice cracks and Crowley shushes him, shifting in his seat to push more of his scent in the general direction of his angel’s perfect voice. 

Crowley nods even though he knows Aziraphale can’t see him. “Of course I can hear you, my love. Where are you? Wherever you are, I’ll come get you, alright?” 

“Did you--” Aziraphale sucks in a deep breath, the sound like something better than even music to Crowley’s ears. “--Did you go to Alpha Centauri, Sir?”

“Nah, I--.” 

Crowley curses the way his own voice cracks, the way the last few tears from earlier finally spill down his red and itchy cheeks. He knows that Aziraphale can sense them, can sense the bitterness of his anger and his terror in his scent and the flash of familiar angelic power Crowley feels wash over him is like the first breath after a long dive. 

“I changed my mind.” He finally chokes out, sniffling. “Stuff happened. I lost my one true love.”

Crowley can pinpoint the exact second that Aziraphale’s control over his own Omega Instincts wavers because his mate whines. It’s high, more of keen than anything, filled to the brim with fear and anxiety and such a sweeping amount of longing and pleading that if Crowley wasn’t already basically as filled with his own Instincts, he knows that's the point when he would have gone completely feral. 

Aziraphale’s voice trembles. “I’m s-so sorry--”

“No, no.” Crowley growls, standing up and leaning into the space Aziraphale would take up if he were physically here, dominating even the air around his mate’s dicorperated essence. “You will _not_ apologize for thisss, beloved, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Alpha.” Aziraphale’s essence is starting to fade, Corwley can feel it and he nearly wants to howl again at the loss. “But back to-to business, I suppose, yes. The bookshop, uh, there was a book there--”

_Shit._

Cutting his Omega off, Crowley tries his hardest to keep his voice low, a simmer of a growl, something to help ground Aziraphale, even though he knows that the news is going to rip his husband apart. 

“Oh, my darling dove, the bookshop, it, well--it burned down.”

Aziraphale pauses, and Crowley can almost imagine the way his eyes widen, the way his lips part in shock and his hands still against his lap. It breaks Crowley's heart. 

“Oh.” A pause. “All of-of it?”

“Yeah. I’m ssso sorry, baby.” Crowley coos, wishing more than anything that he could gather his Omega into his arms, kiss away his tears, lather him with his scent. “What was the book you needed, darling?”

Aziraphale seems to push aside his grief, shove it away into the recesses of his mind and Crowley knows deep down in his mortal bones that Aziraphale is going to need him to be strong for him later, when his Omega finally allows himself to fall apart. 

It’s inevitable. Ineffable, if he’s being truly honestly with himself. 

“The-The, um, the one that the young lass with the bike, the one you hit with your-your car, Alpha--the one that she, uh, she left behind. _The Nice and Accurate--_ ” 

Crowley sits up with a gasp, grabbing the book from the table in front of him and holding it out, tapping the cover with his finger almost hard enough to dent the faded leather. “-- _Prophecies of Agnes Nutter_ , yes I have it, love!”

Aziraphale seems to get his old spark back for just a second because Crowley can hear the small, relieved smile in his voice and the demon’s chest grows warm. “Open it up, my dear, I made notes. The boy’s address, all of it, it’s down in-in the margins. I worked it all out.” 

Crowley scans the yellow pages, the sight of his Omega’s neat, scrawled cursive like a cool breeze in the desert. He drinks up the words, the ink, the reminder that yes, _yes_ his Omega is alive and is coming back to him soon.

“Where are you, sweetheart?” Crowley asks again, finally looking up from the book and in the general direction of his husband’s voice and sweet scent, squinting from behind his sunglasses. “Wherever it is, I’ll be there, just tell me where, please.”

Crowley _needs_ to hold him, needs to press his lips against his mate, to kiss his neck and mark the creamy skin, to breathe words of love and devotion against Aziraphale’s pulse point and feel like everything is as it should be once again. 

“I’m not quite sure, actually, Sir.” Crowley frowns, stuffing the book in his miraculously larger jacket pocket. “I’m not really anywhere right now. I need to-to find a host body, someone that I can use to get back to Earth.”

_Back to you._

“You need to meet me at Tadfield Air Base.” 

Crowley sputters, not used to his Omega giving him orders. His Alpha rumbles under his skin, urging him to establish dominance, to show his mate just who’s in-charge but the ginger shoves the Instinct away, knowing they have more important things to worry about at the moment. Besides, they’ll have time for _that_ later, Crowley will make sure of it. 

“Why?” 

Aziraphale audibly swallows. “The world’s ending, my dear. There, I mean, at the Air Base. It's happening there.”

Crowley stands up, a snarl curling at his lips because no, no way in _fucking Satan’s balls_ is anyone going to take his husband away from him again. “No--”

“Meet me there.” Aziraphale’s voice is fading, his next words barely audible and Crowley nearly howls again at the loss that threatens to choke him, shaking against the feeling. “Promise me, my Alpha.”

Crowley grits his teeth, already starting for the door. He growls above the next boom of thunder, snapping the Bently’s engine on. “I-I promise, my dove.”

Aziraphale’s voice is barely a whisper in the breeze but Crowley hears it just the same. “I love you, Crowley--”

“I love you too, Airaphale, I’ll see you soon, my darling Omega.” Crowley has never meant anything more. “I’ll see you very, _very_ soon.”

By that time, he’s talking to only the rain-soaked air, the water cold and brittle with the approaching winter frost. Crowley pauses, once, to inhale his mate’s sweet scent one last time before he’s in the Bentley and racing down the flooded street, the fire in his blood nearly setting his own world ablaze once again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos make my day and comments fuel my writing! ;D
> 
> Link to my Good Omens Tumblr side-blog (feel free to come and say hi): https://top-crowley-central.tumblr.com


End file.
